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letstrywritingmaybe · 3 years ago

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Love, Learned

Summary: If there’s one thing Shiho does best in life, then it’s that she never settles. Ever. She knows her worth, but she might just make an exception this time. Being actively pursued by a handsome and rich detective who’s in need of a green card changes a few things. Think of it as a business deal, he gets his citizenship and she gets to make some money. Sue her for wanting to indulge in a luxurious life, she’s more than worked her fair share of labor to deserve it. Besides, who says money can’t buy love?

One

October is slowly drawing to an end, after Halloween, it will be time for Thanksgiving again. Then Christmas, the holidays are always the worst, especially living alone in America. She thinks she should be able to stay in San Francisco until the end of the year this time; her contract doesn’t end until after the new year. She hugs herself tighter as a cool breeze passes by, working the late shift means never seeing the sun, but she prefers it this way.

The twilight hours provide some moments of peace, she slows her speed as she passes the Golden Gate Park. It’s too foggy and dark to make out the iconic red bridge by the bay, but she still pauses for a moment to take in the scenery. This, she thinks, this is what she would miss the most when she inevitably leaves. She was about ready to start up her bike again, but the ringing of her phone stops her, she knows before answering it must be Ran. No one else in their right mind would call her at nearly four in the morning, but if it was closer to eight p.m on the other side of the world then that’s a different story.

“Shiho, hey, you just got home right? I think I calculated the time difference correctly this time!”

“You did, I just took a detour, so I’m not quite home yet.”

“Oh, I can wait till you’re home, it’s nothing important.”

“Actually, why don’t I switch to FaceTime? You can hear how loud the waves are right now!”

She turns on her camera for the video call and together the two of them listen to the sound of water being pulled back and forth under the light of the barely visible moon. Shiho feels calm and collected as she leans against the railing with nature in the background. A minute later Ran teases her about her odd pastime instead of going straight to bed after a long shift.

“I feel more rested coming here than I do sleeping anyways.”

“Still haven’t gotten rid of your insomnia I see.”

“I don’t think that’s ever going away. My poor sleeping habits aren’t the reason you called though, what’s going on?”

“I almost forgot! Since you said you can’t come home this year either, I thought we would go down and visit you instead. I’m not taking no for an answer. Sonoko booked everything already.”

“I don’t really have vacation time, I won’t be able to do much with you guys. Besides, you should be home for the holidays.”

“You should be too, but we’re actually going to be there for a couple weeks mid November. My Christmas is booked pretty much every year.”

“Ah yes, with your childhood sweetheart’s family. It’s a wonder your husband isn’t jealous.”

“You are just as bad as Sonoko, I swear. Shinichi and I are just good friends. Besides it would never work out, I knew this a long time ago. He’s married to his work, though speaking of him. He’s coming with us on this trip. Maybe you two can finally meet this time!”

The glee in her tone whenever she mentions the two of them meeting is present as always. It’s been years and Ran still hasn’t given up hope that her two best friends will magically fall in love once they meet. She’s read too many fairytales to convince her that they would be perfect if given the chance to know each other.

“Doubtful, you said it yourself, he’s a workaholic. There’s no way he would take time off for a vacation.”

“He really isn’t. Apparently he’s thinking of expanding the detective agency. His dad mentioned something about it and after another run in with some other detectives, they decided it would be a good thing to join forces I guess? I don’t really know the full details of it. I also wouldn’t ask if you actually want some peace while he’s visiting.”

“I don’t plan on seeing him much anyways. Besides, with his luck, there’ll be a case.”

She hangs up the phone after bidding Ran goodbye, though she stays lingering on the bridge for a few beats longer before retiring to her apartment. Time flows by, she’s always felt time passed far too quickly when she busies herself with work. It just seems to slip away, from when she was seven to eighteen and now she’s thirty two. She can’t even remember her twenties, time works in mysterious ways, though her occupation shares some blame as well. After a disastrous falling out with the first pharmaceutical company she worked at freshly out of college with a doctorate at barely twenty, she finds it difficult to trust any corporation. Who would’ve known The Black Organization was harboring deep dark secrets with a lunatic as their head, to be fair she should’ve known from the name, but this was where her parents worked before they passed. Since then, she’s made sure to do extra research before accepting any temporary positions for another firm. It’s tough being a traveling scientist, but it suits her, besides she really doesn’t have a true place to call home. She’s grateful for the found family in her life, but it does nothing to curb her waves of loneliness that would appear every so often. She has no one in her life, and no one to blame but herself. The holidays are always the hardest to deal with, seasonal depression is unfortunately a very real phenomenon.

It’s rare that she finds herself on the bridge especially after another long shift, she prefers to look at it from a distance, away from all of the tourists. At these late night hours, there isn’t another soul around. The fog has cleared considerably since last week when she spoke to Ran on the phone, looking down she can see the deep blue waters clearly. It looks inviting, but it’s a one way ticket that she has no intention of accepting. She merely changes her grip on the bars when she hears a voice telling her not to jump. At first she wrote it off as her hallucinations from being awake for far too long, but then she turns and sees the voice belong to a living breathing body. One that she should find familiar, but she can’t quite place why she would know the stranger.

“Don’t run from your fate.”

“Huh?”

“This isn’t the answer. Whatever it is you’re trying to escape, this isn’t the way out.”

“I think you’re misunderstanding the situation.”

“Your life is worth more than you know.”

“I’m not planning on jumping.”

“Sometimes it’s an impulsive decision.”

“Okay look, I get that this is a known location for people to commit suicide, but I’m too tired to have this conversation with you. I’m going home, save your spiel on someone you can actually help.”

Maybe the stranger was a figment of her imagination, but his shocked expression looks real as she walks off towards the direction she came away from him. She didn’t even bother glancing back to see if he was still there, she should have just headed straight home. It’s probably the excitement of knowing her best friends are coming into town tomorrow putting her in such a mood. Wait till they hear about her misadventure tonight, surely they’ll laugh with her about this random encounter.

Turns out Sonoko did find the situation a bit funny, but she was also concerned over Shiho’s wellbeing since she wasn’t sure if the event happened or not. Ran on the other hand kept a straight face the entire time. The three women were sitting at a cafe while the others were in charge of checking into the hotel and getting settled in. They only have a few hours with Shiho before she has to go in for her night shift. Apparently breakthroughs in manufacturing drugs are made between the hours of seven p.m and three a.m.

“Ran, I promise I’m fine. Now can you please stop looking at me like that?” Shiho felt as if she was in trouble from the puzzled look on her friend’s face.

“Sorry, this isn’t directed at you… I just think the story sounds familiar…” Ran remembers a very similar story from Shinichi right as she was getting off the plane.

What were the odds, there’s no way the two would’ve met and not recognize the other. Except, she can’t seem to recall the two of them ever having a face to face interaction. Ran has known Shiho for the last fifteen years and somehow the scientist has never met her detective best friend. Either she was too busy with lab work or he would be pulled towards a case. It’s entirely plausible that the two had their first encounter in the early morning while she was still on the plane. She decides to keep this information to herself, she can’t wait to see how they react once the whole group meets for dinner tomorrow. They’ve certainly already made an impression on each other.

Shiho was running late, she overslept. Usually on her days off she would sleep in, which she did, but now she’s going to be late. She really does need to work on her sleep schedule. Though to be fair, they were having an early supper due to her friends’ jet lag. Luckily dinner isn’t going to be at some fancy venue, she quickly throws on a t-shirt and her favorite leather jacket then she heads out the door. She manages to get a parking spot out front where she spots her friends outside the restaurant. Ran and Sonoko both wave enthusiastically at her, she doesn’t pay the others any mind. Until she takes off her helmet and her eyes meet his. Apparently the stranger wasn’t a figment of her imagination afterall. They’re immediately drawn towards each other and everyone takes notice.

“Shiho! This is Shinichi, he’s finally not off on a case and joining us for once.” Ran is absolutely sure the two met last night now, but she still plays along to see what they would do.

“How nice of you to grace us with your presence Detective.”

“You’re Shiho…”

“It’s Miyano to you.”

“Pretty sure we’re past last names after last night.”

“Last night? I didn’t think you two knew each other? Is this why you wanted to take an earlier flight, Shinichi?” Switching her questioning gaze from the detective to her brilliant best friend, “Shiho, you can do better.” Sonoko couldn’t resist butting in, thus making everyone laugh at his expense.

“That’s not…” he starts to defend himself then trails off muttering to himself though she’s close enough to hear him, “I’m a great catch for the record.”

“Don’t worry Sonoko, he was just the guy on the bridge trying to play a hero.”

“I thought you were going to jump!”

“What gave you that idea? I expected more from a world renowned detective.”

“You… never mind… we should order soon, the waiter keeps looking over.”

Said waiter has been looking over at their table for the past five minutes. It was almost creepy the way he stood unmoving just staring at them, and why wear sunglasses indoors especially when it’s already dark outside. He didn’t have them earlier when he filled their drink orders. Something was wrong, both Shiho and Shinici noticed it at the same time. They get up to approach the man as Ran tells them to be patient. Before they could reach him, one of his coworkers accidentally bumps into him, making him fall to the ground with a loud thud. He didn’t respond when asked if he was alright. His sunglasses were knocked off revealing his closed eyes.

“I don’t think he’s breathing.” Shiho takes note that his chest wasn’t moving.

Shinichi kneels down to check his pulse, there was none. He tells her to call the police, she was already on it. The waitress who bumped into the now deceased man starts screaming in hysterics as she thinks she must be the one responsible for his death. Shiho tries to keep her calm while Shinichi tries to keep the scene intact. By the time the police arrived, they already had the suspects narrowed down as well as the cause of death. The responding officers were thoroughly impressed by the two.

“Poisoned needle stuck on the back of his neck in between the second and third vertebrae. You can barely see the end of it sticking out the point of entry. There’s no prints, but that’s to be expected since all the waitstaff are required to wear gloves to serve the hot dishes.” Shiho was the one to point this out to Shinichi while he was interviewing the rest of the staff that was around them at the time of death.

“Only three people have been around him since he served our drinks. He was standing against this computer station for almost ten minutes before we decided to investigate. All three of those people got up close to him while we were talking.” Shinichi ponders about the motive briefly, but it’s hard to tell without interviewing the suspects first.

Together the two of them go on to interrogate the waitress who bumped into the body, the hostess, and the bartender. They were both so invested in the case, neither of them realized when their friends left in search of food. Ran tried to go tell them, but Sonoko said it was a lost cause, besides this would be an opportunity for them to get to know each other. It seems their friends already had plans for them.

By the time the investigation is over, nearly two hours have passed. The two worked seamlessly together despite it being the first time they’re in this type of situation. Shiho wonders why she even bothered to step in, she could have easily just left it up to Shinichi. This wasn’t even technically her field, though her knowledge of poisons did help move the case along.

“So, I think they left us.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I tried calling Ran, but all she did was text back saying they’re at the hotel. They’re still a bit jet lagged.”

“Oh, well I guess I can take you back to your hotel then we’ll call it a night.”

She’s not sure why she offered him a ride, she could’ve just said goodbye and gone back home. It was too late to take it back now, she’s going to have to find another helmet. Luckily there’s a store just a few spaces down.

“Actually… if you’re alright with it, we could still go get something to eat. I can hear Ran telling me not to skip dinner again.”

Shiho laughs at that, it was something she would say and something all too familiar to her as well. “She tells me the same thing too, hm… well it’s not too late yet, we could probably swing by the pier and get some chowder.”

The sun had already set by the time they sat down to eat, it was a bit quieter since tourists tend to visit during daylight. He didn’t try to make awkward small talk to get to know her better, she finds that refreshing, though given his reputation he must have lots of fans try to pry into his private life.

“Why did you order the bread bowl if you’re not going to eat it?”

“I did eat it.”

“You had maybe two bites, and now you’re feeding it to the birds. You’re a local, shouldn’t you know that’s bad for them?”

“I’ve only been here for the last six months, and I’m not planning on staying. That hardly makes me a local. Besides, this is their main source of food, they’ve adapted. Plus you can’t not get the bread bowl, that’s sacrilegious.”

“Right, your contract will be up soon… where do you plan on going next?”

“Definitely staying on the west coast; maybe Oregon, I’ve been to Seattle already, but I never made it past Washington.”

“Why not come back to Japan?”

“One day sure, but it’s not the right time yet.” She finishes sprinkling the last of her crumbs for the seagulls then stands, “Are you done? Let’s get you back, I’m surprised you’re not falling asleep yet.”

“I’ve been here for a few days already, the time difference doesn’t bother me anymore.”

“Work related I’m assuming.”

“Yeah, I’m actually thinking of moving here.”

“San Francisco?”

“Not necessarily, America in general. Any suggestions?”

“Depends on what you’re after, every city offers something different.”

“What brought you here then? What does this city have to offer you?”

“A job.”

He laughs at her honesty. She isn’t too picky about where she winds up so long as it isn’t by the Bible Belt. She would not be welcomed there, but other than that she went with the flow and chased the money. Sure she has presences for cooler weather and close proximity to coffee shops, but other than that she didn’t care. At thirty two she should have things figured out and build some sort of permanence in her life; at the very least a home. She’s still enjoying the pull of wanderlust, traveling to the next destination to explore each new city. She hasn’t found a place to call home yet, she’s not sure she’ll ever find somewhere she belongs, maybe one day.

Also available on ao3 <3

#shinshi #coai #Love Learned #aka the marriage verse or the green card verse #I’ve been sitting on this idea foreverrrr

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omegaling · 6 years ago

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Allez Cuisine! ~Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen: Deviled Eggs and Leftovers

“Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

“For the last time, Finn, she said she doesn’t want to, so let’s go! If I miss out on Mami Trooper’s deviled eggs I swear to God I won’t give you a moment’s peace all weekend!”

“But…” Finn started to protest, but Rey lay a hand on his arm before another argument could break out.

“Really, Finn, I’ll be fine. I always appreciate your family including me in their holiday celebrations, but this year I just want to be alone. Besides, you need to spend some quality time with Poe instead of always worrying about me for a change. I’m a grown woman; I can look after myself.”

Finn looked crestfallen, and Rey had half a mind to throw him over her shoulders and carry him fireman-style to Poe’s car herself. Luckily Poe rescued her by placing his hand gently yet firmly on his boyfriend’s shoulder.

“I think we should respect Rey’s decision, Finn.”

“Really Finn, I’ll be fine,” Rey insisted, picking up his duffel bag and handing it off to Poe. Finn pouted, but finally allowed Poe to steer him to their apartment’s front door.

Every year, Finn’s grandmother, whom was affectionately known to everyone as Mami Trooper, prepared a Thanksgiving feast of unprecedented magnificence. By the time all her family and guests started to arrive at her brownstone in Brooklyn, her table was already laden with all of her favorite holiday dishes from her childhood in Louisiana: Cajun-spiced turkey, cornbread dressing with andouille sausage and pecans, collard greens slow-cooked with ham hocks, crispy fried okra and oysters, candied yams, ham baked with brown sugar and pineapple, made-from-scratch macaroni and cheese, sweet potato pie and, most importantly, her legendary deviled eggs (the spunky old woman loved to proudly boast how she turned down Emeril Lagasse and Paula Dean both offered to by her recipe from her and she shot them both down after pretending to consider it for a week).

What was even more impressive than the food itself was the sheer quantity of it, as Mami Trooper strongly believed that no one should eat alone on Thanksgiving. Not only had Rey been a fixture in the Trooper family since the first Thanksgiving after she moved in with Finn, but his grandmother also opened up her home to the entire block, inviting every overworked single mother, young man trying to get back on his feet after coming out of a rough patch, and lonely senior citizens whose families were scattered around the country and no one could make the trip to New York that year. Everyone who came always brought something of their own to contribute, and by the time dinner was in full swing Rey was amazed that the dining room floor didn’t simply collapse under the combined weight of the people and the food.

The next day, while the rest of the city was caught up in the throes of Black Friday, the Trooper family (complete with Rey in tow) would drive up to Finn’s uncle’s farm upstate for traditions and activities to ring in the start of the Christmas season. Just a few weeks ago Rey had been adamantly looking forward to the Thanksgiving holidays: then everything with Kylo happened, and she worried that her sullenness would only drag everyone down. Making excuses to Finn, Poe and Rose was exhausting enough; she did not want to have to do the same with people she barely knew all weekend.

Poe’s Fiat was full to capacity, making it look like he and Finn were going on an extended vacation instead of a holiday weekend. Even if Rey suddenly did change her mind she doubted there would even be any room for her. Mami Trooper ran a very tight ship during Thanksgiving and only allowed those she trusted the most into the kitchen while dinner was being made, but she had no objection to letting others take over the cooking duties afterward. From the look of it, Poe was planning on taking full advantage of having farm fresh ingredients to play with all weekend.

As Poe tried to stuff Finn’s duffle bag into the last available slot of space in the car, Finn cursed and made a dash back to the apartment building, shouting that he forgot something over his shoulder.

“You owe me five bucks,” Rey said with a roguish grin when Poe joined her on the sidewalk.

“Yeah, yeah,” Poe grumbled, jerking his wallet out of his back pocket. “I made him a checklist and everything. How is it possible for him to still forget something?”

Rey gave him a half-shrug. “He’s your boyfriend. You own that mystery now.”

They waited for Finn to emerge in companionable silence for the next few minutes. People trickled in and out of the other buildings on the street as they went about their own Thanksgiving festivities. The peacefulness was momentarily broken by a chorus of cheers from an apartment somewhere over their heads, no doubt in response to one of the ongoing football games. The breeze picked up gently, bringing the scent of someone’s cooking with it. Saliva exploded in Rey’s mouth; she was going to miss Mami Trooper’s food something fierce this year.

Finn reappeared a moment later, empty-handed and grinning sheepishly. “Turns out I had my phone charger packed after all.”

Poe cocked an eyebrow at Rey. “Does this mean I get my money back?”

“Nope. The bet was he went back to the apartment to get something, not that he already packed it and forgot.”

“Hardy-har-har,” Finn said with a dramatic eye roll. “Come on, let’s get going. The Saints play in an hour.”

“You’re a traitor to all native New Yorkers, Trooper,” Poe said as he moved to the Fiat’s driver’s side.

“Hey, my family’s roots run deep. I have to represent where I can. Besides, you’re one to talk, Mr. Green Card,” Finn shot back.

“Guys, guys!” Rey interrupted them, laughing. “If you don’t get on the road now I’ll call Mami myself and tell her to ban you from her deviled eggs all weekend!”

“You’re a stone cold bitch, Jakken. Maybe that’s why you do so well in the business.” Poe grinned, his eye sparkling with good humor as he at last ducked into the car.

“You only have yourself to blame for that one!” Rey shouted after him.

Finn climbed into the passenger seat, but before he shut the door he looked imploringly at Rey one last time. “If you do change your mind, we’re only a phone call away. That’s for anytime this weekend.”

“But it’s a three hour drive to you uncle’s farm. You’ll be wasting a whole day if you come back for me.”

Finn shrugged. “Maybe. But you’re kind of worth it.”

Rey felt her heart swell with affection for her friend. The backs of her eyes prickled hotly as she gave him one more long hug and thought, in spirit of the season, how thankful she was to have such wonderful friends.

I don’t deserve them, Rey thought as she waved Finn and Poe off until the Fiat turned a corner and disappeared. She knew she had been mopey and distant over the past few weeks, but instead of pushing the issue they respected her need for space and never attempted to coax the information from her. Even when she told Finn she wouldn’t be going to Mami Trooper’s for Thanksgiving he didn’t so much as ask for a reason, even though he looked heartbroken when she broke the news to him.

It’s time to let go of this Iron Chef ordeal and everything tied to it, Rey vowed as she returned to their apartment. Poe and Kylo Ren could claim that she had all the makings of being a great chef in her own right until the cows came home, but after everything that happened following the their now infamous episode Rey firmly decided that the celebrity chefs could go right ahead and keep their fame and glory for themselves. She was perfectly happy where she was in her life and grateful for it. Very few people ever had the privilege to say the same thing.

A sudden epiphany hit Rey, like a soccer ball getting kicked into the side of her head. She might not have felt up to a big family gathering this year, but that didn’t mean she had to confine herself staying home and feel sorry for herself all weekend. A quick Google search provided Rey with the information she needed, and ten minutes later she was headed out of her apartment donned in a fleece coat, scarf and knitted beanie, making her way to the Bowery neighborhood in the crisp November morning.

When Rey arrived at the Bowery Mission homeless shelter her heart sank. The building’s main dining hall was already packed with both people in need and volunteers; she hadn’t even thought about calling ahead to see if they even had any openings for additional help in her off the cuff decision to volunteer for the afternoon. To her relief the smiling receptionist assured her that more help was always welcome. There was a waiting list to work in the kitchen and serve the meals, so until a spot opened for her Rey opted to spend some time with the shelter’s youngest patrons.

Rey was directed to another room off the main dining area, which was filled with about twenty toddlers and younger children being looked after by half a dozen or so volunteers while their parents had the opportunity to shower and rest. Looking out at them, Rey felt her heart clench painfully in her chest, accompanied by a surge of guilt that squeezed the air from her lungs as her mind became awash with memories of spending much of her young childhood in similar places. While unwelcome memories of Unkar Plutt still resurfaced from time to time, she hadn’t given any thought to her earliest years in the system since before she started working for Poe. The last time she had seen Kylo Ren she had railed on him about forgetting where he came from, but hadn’t done the same as well?

A tug on her hand brought Rey back to the here and now. She looked down to see a small boy of about six or seven staring up at her with wide, limpid eyes. Rey smiled at him. “Well, hello there, sweetie. What’s your name?”

The little boy didn’t answer her question, but instead proffered to her an extremely battered copy of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone . Rey understood immediately.

“Do you want me to read this to you?”

He nodded eagerly.

Rey walked over to one of the furthest corners of the room, away from the louder cartoons and video games, and settled on one end of a small futon sofa. The little boy perched at the other end, like a cat that still didn’t fully trust her. Rey opened the book, mindful of the first few pages that wanted to come loose from their binding, and started to read.

“ Mr and Mrs Dursley of number four, Privet Drive, were very proud of say that they were very normal, thank you very much…”

By the time the wizards all raised their glasses to toast The Boy Who Lived, the little boy had moved across the couch to snuggle into Rey’s side. Another four children came over to listen to Harry talk to the boa constrictor, and when Harry’s Hogwarts letters started pelting out of the Dursley’s fireplace her audience swelled to ten. She had to take a break when someone started pounding on the door of the shack on the rock out at sea, her throat dry and scratchy from reading for almost two hours. The children started to protest as she got up, but she promised to be back to tell who was on the other side of the door after she got herself some water. When she reached the volunteer’s break room, one of the Bowery Mission staff members informed her that there was an opening in meal service, but Rey politely declined. She didn’t want to disappoint her audience.

“Um… Excuse me?”

A soft, timid voice made Rey stop in her tracks on the way back to the play area, a bottle of cold water in her hand. Standing behind her was a full-figured teenager of about fifteen or so, wringing her hands together in a nervous gesture. Rey smiled kindly at her. “Can I help you? Are you okay?”

“Oh… Yes, I’m okay… I was just wondering… I mean, I’m sure I’m completely wrong, but…” The girl clasped her hands so tightly together than her knuckles started to turn white. Rey waited patiently until the girl visibly gathered her courage and blurted out almost faster than Rey could follow, “Were you just on an episode of Iron Chef America ?”

The question caught Rey off guard, and she answered that yes, she was, without really thinking. She kicked herself mentally for doing so - the whole point of this weekend was to try to get over Kylo Ren - but the girl suddenly lit up so brightly that Rey forgot her own grievance.

“Oh… Oh, wow ,” the girl said breathlessly. “I thought that maybe it was you because of how you hear your hair, but lots of girls started wearing their hair like that after that episode and…” She trailed off, looking deeply embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I know I’m rambling and you’re busy. I just always loved Iron Chef America but the episode you were in was just so...so good . I mean, Kylo Ren is always fun to watch and Chef Dameron is really hot, but you were my favorite part.”

Now it was Rey’s turn to blush. While her coworkers and the other chefs of the Village complimented her fairly often on her work, she didn’t consider herself particularly exceptional. True, she could imitate any dish down to the exact amount of salt used, but it wasn’t the same as coming up with the recipes on her own. Getting compliments from someone she didn’t know humbled her to the core.

“Thank you. So much,” Rey said, her throat tight with emotion. “Do you like to cook, too?”

“I do!” the girl said enthusiastically, only to deflate a bit immediately after. “When I can, that is. A lot of the homes I stayed in don’t let the kids in the kitchen, so I don’t get to practice a lot. I mostly only watch shows like Top Chef, Chopped and Iron Chef. I don’t think I’ll ever be as good as someone like you.”

“I’ll let you in on a secret,” Rey said with a mischievous smile. “The first time I tried cooking for myself I ended up exploding eggs all over my new roommate’s kitchen. The whole front of the apartment smelled like a fart for a week.”

The girl tried to capture her laughter by clapping a hand over her mouth, but her giggles still managed to slip through her fingers. Her reaction prompted Rey’s smile to widen even more.

“And I’ll tell you another secret. I didn’t learn to cook until I was nineteen. That wasn’t even three years ago.”

Now the girl was openly gaping at her, all signs of mirth wiped clean from her face. “But… But what you did on Iron Chef was incredible… It was like art…”

“How about this? How about you come with me and hear how Harry learns he’s a wizard, and afterwards we can talk about cooking.”

For a second Rey was worried that the girl was going to faint on the spot. Thankfully, she only ended up nodding. “My name is Lucy, by the way.”

“I’m very pleased to meet you, Lucy. Now let’s go see a man about an owl, shall we?”

Two chapters and a trip to Diagon Alley later, Rey and Lucy sat at an unoccupied table near the back of the Bower Mission’s dining area with a mug of tea and a glass of soda, respectively. Lucy peppered Rey with every imaginable question pertaining to cooking, jumping from what it’s like working in the kitchen of an upscale restaurant to how certain kinds of meals are prepared to what was it like being on TV (and is the Chairman like that all the time or is it just for the show?). Finally she calmed down enough to ask - at least in Rey’s opinion - the most crucial question of all.

“Where do I even begin? Like, what is the first thing I need to know?”

It took Rey a few minutes to wrack her brains to remember the first lessons she had, way back when Poe gave his cooking seminar at NYU. Everything she did as his prep cook was now so ingrained into her that it was difficult to remember that there was a time when she could hardly tell the difference between one end of a knife and the other. She ran through all the basics that not only aspiring chefs should know, but everyone as they came into adulthood. Lucy didn’t look particularly impressed when Rey told her the importance of learning how to properly prepare eggs and pasta and vegetables, but Rey quickly set the record straight.

“It’s all about the foundation,” she told Lucy, bobbing a tea bag into a fresh mug of hot water. “DaVinci didn’t paint the Mona Lisa the first time he picked up a paintbrush any more than Beethoven composed the Fifth the first time he sat down at a piano. If you don’t have a proper foundation lay down, anything you try to build on top of it will just collapse sooner or later.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Lucy said. “But how do I even start?”

“Like anything else that requires practice: at the beginning. Offer to help your foster parents prepare meals, even if it’s as simple as something as cutting up vegetables or making side dishes. Take a cooking class if you school offers it, or see if there are any programs for high school students you can enroll in. Start looking into culinary schools for after you graduate; there are a ton of them in New York, not just the CIA, and a lot of the city colleges have basic cooking courses you can take while you work on your general education courses. And when you apply to work at a restaurant, don’t turn your nose up at the grunt work, like dish washing or the messier, more time-consuming prep work. It will prove to the head chef that you want to be there because it’s something you’re passionate about and not because of romanticized assumptions.”

Lucy nodded slowly, and Rey could tell by the set of her mouth that she was worrying the inside of her cheek. Rey knew exactly what she was feeling, as clearly as if it was projected into her own mind: a fear and self-doubt born from living a life in the system, that no matter how well Lucy behaved or how hard she studied or worked, she would always be inadequate in the eyes of “normal” society; that being a foster child was a sigma that marked her for failure for life. The ghosts of Unkar Plutt’s hurtful words started to crawl into Rey’s own mind, a cruel taunting slur that dogged her throughout high school. Without thinking Rey’s hand shot forward to grasp Lucy’s. Lucy jumped at the unexpected contact, but she didn’t yank her hand away.

“Hey,” Rey said, looking Lucy straight in the eye. “I was just like you when I was your age. I was in the system since I was five, and it was thirteen years of being bounced between homes of sub-par care, falling behind in school every time I got transferred and living with the certainty that it was never going to get better. And it did, not only because I worked for it, but also because I got help. So I want you to do this: if you need to put down a reference for a college application or a work resume, you give them my name and the number to BB8. I’ll put in a good word for you.”

“But you don’t even know me!” Lucy blurted out, looking very much like she wanted to cry.

“And Poe Dameron didn’t know me, but he took that leap of faith anyway. And someday I’ll take that same leap for you. You just have to promise me one thing.”

It took Lucy a moment to calm down, wiping the tears off her face with the sleeve of her sweatshirt to ask Rey what she wanted her to do. Rey felt her heart go out to her. She wondered how long it was since the poor girl was given even the smallest sliver of encouragement by an adult.

“No matter where you end up, never forget where you came from.”

It wasn’t until later that Rey realized Poe Dameron’s cooking lessons were not the only ones she tapped into while she was talking to Lucy.

Rey might have missed out on Mami Trooper’s Thanksgiving feast, but that didn’t mean that she had to give up a traditional meal altogether. And while she could just as easily make herself an upscale dinner of cranberry-glazed roast turkey and French aligot potatoes, she chose a much more non-hassle option. She could not put her finger on an exact reason why, but there was something deeply satisfying about eating a sandwich made of pre-cooked turkey breast, instant mashed potatoes and stuffing, canned gravy and cranberry sauce on plain white bread. She had picked up all the items on a whim on her way home from work on Tuesday, and now she was glad she did. Preparing Michelin quality food day in and day out made her appreciate the simpler, nostalgic foods and the comfort they brought. No matter how good their food was, that was something that chefs like Poe and Kylo could never replicate in their restaurants.

Rey paused, her sandwich halfway to her mouth. Her last conversation with Kylo rose from the recesses of her mind she banished it to, but now she made no effort to stop it. She had told him that she would rather keep her sentimental memories than trade them for a lucrative career, but wasn’t she already kind of guilty of that? When she came to New York she suddenly had the entire culinary world at her fingertips to explore. Before that she had no idea that so many different types of food existed; she could eat at a different restaurant every night and never go to the same place twice. Hell, there were still places in the Village she’d never been to. And yet there was nothing else she’d rather be eating at that time than her Thanksgiving leftovers sandwich.

A new idea materialized, which was quickly followed up by a plan. She was still of the opinion that Kylo was a pretentious asshole and she doubted now that that would ever change, but she didn’t want to leave things as they were.

Maybe, like her, he just needed a reminder.

Rey finished her lunch, changed into warmer clothing (it was decidedly colder today) and set off for the nearest grocery outlet.

The store was virtually empty when she arrived. The one cashier on duty gave her a smile just large enough to acknowledge her presence before returning to fiddling with their phone.

Rey moved up and down the aisles, tapping into her memories of when she was a college student living on a very limited income. She grabbed pasta, ramen packages and rice that only cost a few dollars for several boxes and two jars of generic tomato sauce; Kraft macaroni and cheese and a few cans of soup; peanut butter, jelly and bread; half a gallon of mind and half a dozen of eggs; a couple of frozen dinners on sale for a dollar each; and finally a small package of ground beef that was marked down two dollars because it was going out of code tomorrow. By the time Rey checked out she had spent just under thirty dollars and had enough food to make meals for the next two weeks, three if she really stretched it.

With her purchases made, Rey called for a Lyft car (she wasn’t even going to attempt the subways, even with the hub of Black Friday shopping on the other side of the city) and went straight to Walker Tower.

Roger was off-duty when Rey arrived, but the doorman who was there knew her well enough to not give her any issues as she walked in. The Tower’s lobby was already adorned with beautiful Christmas decorations, but Rey did not give them so much as a second glance and she went to the elevators. On the ride up to Kylo’s floor, she re-adjusted the note she prepared in the Lyft car so it sat in plain view on top of the bag. When she arrived at Kylo’s apartment, she dropped the bag outside his door, then immediately turned around and went back the way she came.

About twenty minutes later Kylo’s neighbor, fresh back from a refreshing jog, took notice of the lumpy plastic bag sitting outside his reclusive neighbor’s door. Curiosity prompted the man to go over to investigate. He couldn’t see what was inside because a note that read “This is where I came from” lay over the top.

The man’s interest immediately vanished, his mind back on the shower he was looking forward to. He didn’t know his neighbor other than what he heard from the other Tower’s residents, and that the unanimous decision was he was a grade-A jerk.

Rey was reading on Saturday morning when her phone pinged with a new text message. She was sure it was going to be another text from Finn telling her how much he missed her (complete with a crying emoji face) so her heart skipped a beat when she saw it was from a number she was sure she would never see again. The whole apartment felt to tilt under the weight of the two words on her phone’s screen.

“I’m sorry.”

Rey stared at her screen for a full five minutes as she deliberated on the best way to respond, because she knew no matter what, it would send her down a road of no return.

Finally, she made up her mind.

“ Come over to dinner. My roommate it out of town. I’ll cook.”

She held her breath as she waiting for an answer.

Ping.

“I’ll bring the wine this time.”

#reylo #reylo fan fiction #reylo au #reylo chef au #allez cuisine!#omegaling writes

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keneerike · 6 years ago

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Control Your Emotions and Control Your Reality: 5 Keys To Getting It Done

I haven't posted since June. Plenty of life updates afoot since then; might share those on the site at a later date.

I'm back with a piece that should hit home for everyone.

Our minds control our reality. Everything we do is a result of how we think.

It's the reason we have so many bad drivers: A moving car is just an extension of the mind operating it.

The guy that tailgates, weaves in-and-out of lanes in heavy traffic, slams on the brakes when he had ample time to slow down; same dude that's quick to anger, focused on immediate gratification instead of long-term wins, and treats discipline like a four-letter word.

Those choices are all born of the same short-term, lack-of-self-control-fueled thinking.

With experience, you (hopefully) gain wisdom and realize that the risk of an accident or moving violation isn't worth the chance to shave a few seconds of your trip. Run-ins with the law, days wasted in court, spikes in insurance premiums....those get old, fast.

It's why young men draw the highest insurance premiums. Actuaries know that segment of society is most likely to engage in risky behaviors that cost money. Pressure to fit in with peers, uncertainty about identity, brains not-yet-fully-formed, few entanglements and responsibilities; recipes for volatility.

That 18-34-Year-Old demographic is the most prized target market in advertising for similar reason. Those are the folks most likely to fall for the "What-You-Buy-Determines-Who-You-Are" Myth. A lack of life experience and a large portion of one's day spent buried in media create ideal consumers.

Yes, the brand of deodorant you buy defines who you are. More than what you actually produce for yourself and others.

Searching for something to instill meaning in life, we pull out our wallets or latch on to theater around us. Companies know they'll never go broke providing easy answers for difficult questions, even if those purported solutions fall flat in the long run.

We see that in civic debate, where Identity politics have taken over American governance.

We see it in sports, with die-hard fans. People who wrap themselves in sports fandom, often to drown out the deafening silence in their lives. Their team's divisional record is a direct reflection of their worth as a person, so any perceived attack on their team is met with indignation; One cross word from a rival fan is all it takes to get that ball rolling.

The post-game scene outside your favorite stadium.

Which brings us back to the theme of this post: managing your emotions so you can maintain peace of mind.

Five Tips for Controlling Your Thoughts (and emotions):

1) Visualize the steps you need to reach your ideal outcome.

2) Abstain from thoughts and images that conflict with your goals.

3) Take physical action to bring your goals to pass.

4) Put events in proper context.

5) Decide ahead of time how you'll respond when life takes a turn.

1) Visualize the steps you need to reach your ideal outcome.

Your thoughts dictate your emotions; your emotions dictate your actions.

Paint a picture of the ideal outcome and work backwards. What kind of work do you need to put in to get there? Visualize yourself going through the paces. Imagine yourself as a calm, level-headed decision-maker during times of uncertainty and you'll begin to act that way.

Use your cognitive abilities to support your desires, not thwart them. Visualize what it feels like and looks like to attain your ideal outcome. Your muscle memory will follow suit. You get out what you put in. Fill your (mental) tank with low-grade fuel and you'll sputter along, struggling to make full use of your abilities and enjoy your daily experience.

2) Abstain from thoughts and images that conflict with your goals.

Tune in to Food Network and you get hungry: No surprise there. The sights and sounds of cakes and pastas evoke memories of past good times with a fork and spoon. You get to thinking about replicating that enjoyment and next thing you know, you're wrist-deep in that pie you were saving for Thanksgiving.

Most of us have enough sense to stay away from cooking shows when we're trying to slim down, yet we forget the persuasive impact of the sights and sounds we subject ourselves to every minute of the day.

When you focus on what you don't want, your mind brings that to pass. God designed our brains to manifest the images and thoughts we meditate on.

The surest way to miss a shot or drop a pass when you're in a big game is to continue imagining what it will be like to miss a shot or drop a pass when you're in a big game.

3) Take physical action to bring your goals to pass.

Talk is cheap. You know that.

Itching to start a business? Want to drop a few pounds? Reading day-after-day of motivational articles will only take you so far. At some point, you've got to throw on some sneakers and get to work.

Train your brain to handle inevitable challenges by exposing yourself to them ahead of time. Dedicated practice of the skills you need in trying times arms your mind with evidence that you can handle what comes your way. You get accustomed to the difficulties of certain activities and fear and worry fade away.

4) Put events in proper context.

Restaurant got your pizza order wrong? Cut off in traffic? Friend offered an opinion you disagree with?

Reasons to be angry? Sure. But your level of outrage and subsequent response should be appropriate.

Running the other guy off the road or ending a friendship because you have divergent political views? Too extreme.

Life goes on, even when people around you don't hold up their end of the bargain.

5) Decide ahead of time how you'll respond when life takes a turn.

You choose your level of outrage. You choose your internal and external response to what crosses your path. When things don't go according to plan, you can take it in stride, minimizing the emotional damage, or fly off the handle.

Like any skill, it takes practice.

To be clear, I'm not pushing the passive-aggressive, conflict-avoidance approach for problem solving.

That line of thinking is rooted in insecurity and a fear that one doesn't deserve---or lacks the ability to obtain---what one desires. Confident people who know what they want should go after it and not kid themselves about resolving problems that bother them.

Being comfortable with the uncomfortable is an underrated asset. If your first inclination when faced with conflict is to flee, put the work in and change that.

The best things in life are free, but the brave get first crack at the pickings.

When others screw up, seek recompense where appropriate. Just don't let it torpedo your entire day.

Resentment, harboring grudges, plotting revenge: these all tie up cognitive resources that could be employed elsewhere. Not only do you keep replaying the offending event in your head, subjecting yourself to repeated emotional trauma, you waste time that could have been spent bettering your life. It's like re-watching a movie you found torturous the first time around. Give it the proper attention and move on. Odds are the offending party isn't thinking about it, so the only one significantly-impacted by the event is you. You're better off getting it out of your mind as quickly as possible.

Avoid counterfactual thinking as well. Imagining what could have been had everything gone according to plan will drive you insane.

Ever played fantasy sports or gambled? You know the pain of the choice (not) taken.

Managing your expectations of others helps here, too. Like a good defensive driver, assume others will drop the ball and disappointment is less likely to sneak up on you. And definitely don't hold others to higher standards than you hold yourself;that just makes you a hypocrite.

Great leaders understand that intuitively.

You've got more control over what transpires in your life than you give yourself credit for.

I'll give you a personal example to drive the point of emotion control home:

I spent some time in the hospital earlier this year. Shared some details here:

https://soundcloud.com/user-31492767/kene-tells-clot-story-testimony-to-church-feb-2018

When I got out of the hospital, everyone had an opinion on what I needed to do next and how worried I should be about my prognosis.

Any talk about how unstable my condition was or the physical dangers looming in recovery---I shut it down. Started that while I was in the hospital, with visitors who wanted to talk about other people they knew who succumbed to the episode or anxieties about my vulnerability. I only wanted to hear words that facilitated healing, not breathed life into fears.

I wasn't listening to anything that allowed doubt to creep into my mind; I was only planting seeds that would push me towards a full recovery.

In addition to maintaining a running dialogue with medical specialists, I searched for---and found---present time and biblical examples of people who experienced healing. Case studies are useful for establishing precedent and demonstrating value. Great for inspiration and instructional knowledge, too.

As if this whole ordeal was preordained, I found a number of passages tackling the exact same infirmity I was contending with:

Matthew 9:20-22:

"And, behold, a woman, which was diseased with an issue of blood twelve years, came behind him, and touched the hem of his garment:

For she said within herself, “If I may but touch his garment, I shall be whole.”

But Jesus turned him about, and when he saw her, he said, “Daughter, be of good comfort; thy faith hath made thee whole.” And the woman was made whole from that hour."

Part of my recovery protocol entailed months of daily cold showers: Every day, without compromise.

Each time I headed for the shower, a skirmish erupted in my mind: How was I going to handle today's ice bath? I could choose to think about the discomfort of ice-cold water hitting my skin, which would inspire dread every time I headed for the shower, or focus on the regenerative effects to be had through consistent participation.

Ice baths are great for pain relief and muscle management.

And really, after a initial five-second jolt of "cold", your body adjusts quickly to the temperature. Cold baths aren't nearly as traumatic as you've been led to believe and they get easier the more you do them.

The decision was made from the get-go, so I wouldn't waffle when the time arrived.

I knew these ice showers needed to be done and never allowed myself to consider skipping them. When you accept that something needs to be done and focus on the benefits of completing the task, you realize that focusing on the not-so-enjoyable parts is counter-productive. You've got to do it anyway, so why not place yourself in a state of mind most conducive to getting it done and not dreading the action going forward?

That's the formula for beating procrastination in all its forms, whether its getting your homework done or doing the dishes.

Winners learn how to hurdle obstacles that losers shy away from. Controlling your thoughts is the first step for accomplishing that.

Your weekly internment camp or the road to a fulfilling marriage and a shape others will envy: It's all about how you look at it.

Visualizing worst case scenarios is a poor way to navigate life. That line of negative thinking is the same thought process behind the white-hot fear of public speaking.

Remember that next time you're in a jam.

Too many Christians respond to uncertainty like unbelievers, letting their emotions run wild when trouble rears. Only after self-inducing complete despair do they ask God---in a passive way, no less---to restore peace and solve their problems..

"Stress" wasn't a team member I needed for my recovery journey, so reining in my thoughts and emotions was paramount. If you stop imagining panic-inducing outcomes, you stop panicking. I refused to let my heart be troubled, kept cool, acted in faith, and got every result I was looking for---and then some.

God is great.

When the unexpected happens, your first response dictates the outcome. You dwell on all that could go wrong and that self-fulfilling prophecy comes to pass.

You can throw up your hands and bemoan the world around you or get to work sculpting your environment to your tastes; it's all in your hands.

A steady hand---and mind--- at the wheel will carry you far.

All of this sound crazy? You think the vagaries of life mean your mental state needs to fluctuate to mirror anything that comes your way?

That's because we're so accustomed to taking our normative cues from the people around us---many of whom base their actions on the whims of what's popular at the moment---instead of a more grounded authority.

Even the tallest tree needs solid roots---the base we cannot see---to withstand the elements.

#Business #Relationships #Psychology #Women In Tech #Health #Recovery #Fitness #Money #Leadership #Life Lessons

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